


bruises on my knees for you

by SinSmith



Series: flesh of the servant [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal, Anal Sex, Bisexual Sirius Black, Body Worship, Bottom Sirius Black, Choking, Closet Sex, Closeted Character, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Denial of Feelings, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent, Edgeplay, Edging, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends With Benefits, Gay, Humiliation, Inappropriate Use of Wands (Harry Potter), Light BDSM, Lube, M/M, Manipulation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Peter is heavy and Sirius is ABOUT IT, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Situational Humiliation, Young Peter Pettigrew, but like, fat body, top Peter Pettigrew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:21:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25732780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinSmith/pseuds/SinSmith
Summary: It had all started the night Peter shagged Regulus."I'm mad because my brother fucked one of my mates!" Sirius snarled, black-blue angry."... Interesting."".... What?""It's just an interesting way to phrase that." Entirely calm, like it was the most casual thing in the world to have observed. But there was something there, something-"... Stop it, you have that look in your eye where you're reading into something that I didn't mean.""No, you meant it. I'm just amused. You'd think you'd word it that you were mad at one of your mates for fucking your brother."Sirius gets wildly jealous and Peter uses it to his advantage.  Filthy sex is had. Read the tags.
Relationships: Marauders & Marauders, Mentioned Peter Pettigrew / Regulus Black, Sirius Black & Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black/Peter Pettigrew
Series: flesh of the servant [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1958134
Comments: 6
Kudos: 53
Collections: Peter Pettigrew Smutfest





	bruises on my knees for you

**Author's Note:**

> This whole fic rose out out of my frustration that Peter gets left out of the Marauders sin-fest due to being heavy, and also my own weird feelings about writing about fat bodies. I have a lot of opinions about Peter Pettigrew.
> 
> So have some absolutely filthy sex about it, because I had to be the change I wanted to see in the world.

It had all started the night Peter shagged Regulus.  
  
Nobody had known it was happening in the moment. First they were all goofing off in the stands of a late in the season Quidditch game, getting drunk on smuggled firewhiskey brilliantly disguised by Wormtail and Prongs inside of a hollowed out broomstick, and then the sun was setting with their little number down a prominent rat.  
  
Peter had showed up the next morning with a few dark hickies on his freckled neck, looking utterly smug, but nobody had thought anything of it. It wasn’t until days later it finally got around. The facts, as they stood, were that Pettigrew and Black, the younger, had been seen disappearing behind the Gryffindor stands too close for comfort and with a half drunk bottle. They’d reemerged, an hour or two later, reported Wynburta Aldehurst, with notably less clothing and no bottle anywhere to be seen.  
  
These things weren’t unheard of, everybody was shagging everybody seventh year, but Sirius Black was red hot angry about it. The resident bad boy of Gryffindor suite had been raging in the moment; he’d given Pettigrew a black eye for his trouble, busted a tooth that needed Madam Pomfrey’s skilled regrow potion to cure. He’d taken his anger out on James, on Snivelus, on anybody who dared to get close enough to piss him off. He’d served more detentions than he cared to admit.  
  
At first, the other Marauders had been supportive; it was a bit shite of Peter to shag Sirius’ brother, of course. He’d deserved the beating and more, and the first month of silent treatment… but by the second, when it was clear Regulus and Wormtail had been a one-off, Remus and James had had quite enough of Sirius’ storming off whenever Peter returned to the dorm. 

* * *

  
  
It was Remus who broke down first. “What is this about, Pete?”  
  
That knowing, too innocent smile on Peter’s lips. “Oh, I know what it's about. I'm just waiting for Padfoot to put it together.”

Sirius, who’d just been on his way out, lingered long enough to catch that little exchange. And the drop-churn-roll that his stomach did was enough to send him storming down the staircase.  
  
Peter, sitting just in eyesight of the doorway, smirked a little harder at the sweep of black hair, the leather jacket. 

* * *

Things always got worse before they got better.  
  
Sirius couldn’t handle Wormtail’s snide jokes about sleeping with Regulus another minute, even when they were just implied. Everyone knew Peter liked blokes, everyone had known that for years. It was the one thing he’d been truly brave about which, as a half-blood wizard, was a pretty bold statement. Old wizarding families didn’t particularly care- but muggles still did, especially Pete’s pastor of a father. And Sirius, well. Sirius slept with anybody he felt like. He just hadn’t expected- Regulus. His spoiled, perfect little brother. 

Sirius slammed Pete against a mossy stone wall. 

“What the hell’s gotten into you?” Peter demanded; not shocked so much as curious. This close, Sirius could see the wide blue of his eyes; the soft fullness of his cheeks, the dusting of freckles and the curly honey blonde hair.

"I'm mad because my brother fucked one of my mates!" Sirius snarled, black-blue angry. 

"... Interesting."

".... What?"

"It's just an interesting way to phrase that." Entirely calm, like it was the most casual thing in the world to have observed. But there was something there, something-

"... Stop it, you have that look in your eye where you're reading into something that I didn't mean."

"No, you meant it. I'm just amused. You'd think you'd word it that you were mad at one of your mates for fucking your brother."

"Fuck you, Pete, that's what I said." His fingers were white-knuckled in the red sweater that Peter wore; he could feel how warm the shorter boy was through his clothes.

"It's not. You're angry that Reg fucked me, not that I fucked Reg."

"I-“

" 'S just interesting, is all." Peter had caught his wrists, at some point; too gentle to be appropriate. Was gripping them with soft, strong hands; sliding them away from his shoulders like he’d attempt to get away.

"You fucked him, fine, I don't care." Sirius didn’t budge, tension in his mouth and jaw that wouldn’t yield. Gritting his teeth, shaking Pete by the shoulders. Like somebody who cared. Like somebody who cared quite a lot.

"You so certain that's how it went down?"

"Wh-" 

"Because you're making a lot of assumptions. Have you thought about it in detail, then? Bit weird. Him being your brother and all." Pettigrew looked smug; the kind of smug he wore when he thought of something clever no one else had. When he’d solved their problems with just an idea, a word. His dark brows low, blue eyes narrowed and sharp; his mouth a crooked line, and a dimple in one cheek.

"I'm going to rearrange your face, Pete." Sirius was bristling, drawing his wand and pointing it at Wormtail’s jaw; it pressed into the thick line of his neck and he watched the boy swallow, breath coming a little quicker.

A deep sigh from Peter, but no attempt to shove Sirius off of him. "If you must."

"C'mon, draw your bloody wand!"

"Why? You'll win."

Sirius cursed under his breath, pushing Peter’s jaw higher; tousled blonde hair covering those intent blue eyes. There he was, the clever, angel-faced one; at his mercy. He wanted to be violent, wanted to wrap a hand around his throat, wanted to sink his teeth into him like a peach-  
  
".... I will not fight back. But go on. If it'll make you feel better." 

He felt something vicious curl inside him, but at that moment Longbottom walked out from the dormitory, raising an eyebrow at the two of them. “I’d put that off. McGonagal’s coming by.”  
  
Frank was right, of course; they could hear her footsteps down the hall, and Sirius growled low, shaking Pettigrew by the shoulders one more time for good measure; shoving him back against the wall to stalk down the hallway.  
  
Peter hit the wall with a satisfying ‘oof’, exhaling heavy; pulling himself to stand straight, smoothing his sweater. “See you next time, then.” But something about the way he said it, even to Sirius’ back, seemed heavy and sly with portent.

* * *

‘Next time’ happened to be brewing an off-limits Polyjuice potion in the abandoned 3rd floor bathroom when a Prefect came snooping. Had they actually been helping each other, instead of Sirius sulking and smoking a cigarette while Peter did all the work, they might have had time to save the ingredients; as it was, they had to book it into the hidden cupboard that they’d been stowing the potion kit in and barely got there in time, the large two way mirror closed behind them, before Gregory Abbot was snooping around and confiscating their stolen herbs and decoctions.  
  
They, on the other hand, were uncomfortably crammed into the small hidden cranny; too narrow, really, for two grown boys to fit in facing each other. But there they were. And while they’d thrown up a sound proofing spell before beginning the evening’s adventure, that didn’t mean they could sneak past Abbot until he was done. Sirius cursed under his breath, shifting back against the wall, running a hand through his long black hair. His mother hated that he kept it long, so he hadn’t cut it in six years.  
  
Peter was tight in his space, the warm curve of his stomach pushing up against Sirius’, they were packed in, Sirius’ legs bent out beneath them. He was taller than Peter, and so he’d rested an arm across the cupboard to brace himself, over Peter’s shoulder. Uncomfortably tangled, he was acutely aware of his cheek next to Peter’s cheek. The earthy scent of him, the lingering heat. Of all of them, Peter was the enigma; James was an open book, always honest. Remus was the brooding one who often surprised him, but it was because Remus had depths he chose not to share. Peter though? Peter might be as shallow as a pond, deep as an ocean. Who could tell, really?  
  
And there was a mystery in the way Peter looked over at him. Brilliant blue eyes illuminated from the side, shadows cast into his dimples, outlining his jaw and the chub just below. It was a face Sirius knew well, and he huffed quietly pulling his gaze away.  
  
“We wouldn’t have gotten caught-” Peter finally spoke, “- if you’d been keeping watch as you’d said you would.” He had that sort of tight, terse tone to his voice he got when he was disappointed.  
  
Sirius loathed it, and he set his mouth, sighing deeply. “I’d have been keeping watch if you weren’t such a damned arse.”  
  
“In what way was I being a ‘damned arse’? Please, enlighten me.”  
  
“Acting all smug, like you’ve pulled something over on me-”  
  
“Like I know something you don’t know, mm?”  
  
“Yes, exactly like that.”  
  
“Interesting.”

“... you’re going to make me ask, aren’t you.”  
  
“I can’t make you do anything.” But that dimple was there, tucked into the corner of his mouth like a secret.  
  
“For fuck’s sake-” But the curiosity was gnawing at him, and he was sick and tired of avoiding Peter when they went around, sick of the tight tense snubbing and glowering looks. “-FINE. Tell me. It better be fucking good.”  
  
“Fucking rather seems to be the issue.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“You were angry that I fucked Regulus.”  
  
“Obviously.” He drawled, with spite, fingers balling out of habit.  
  
“Irrationally so. One might almost say jealous.”  
  
His initial reaction was horror. “If you think that I’m into something that unnatur-”  
  
“Not Reg, Sirius. Me.”  
  
Sirius opened his mouth to argue, but then closed it again, brow furrowed. It was a bold accusation, crowded in the cubby with each other, speaking in hushed tones while a prefect rustled through their contraband in the room just beyond.  
  
“You’re jealous.” Peter continued, turning away from the mirror; looking over at Sirius with intent. “It’s alright to admit it. You could have pulled me, you know, if you’d asked. But I get it. Being openly into blokes isn’t easy at Hogwarts and you’ve your reputation. And what would James think.” He wove the spell with precision, a warmth to his voice; because of course he understood, of course there was no judgement from Peter of all people. It was alarming, amazing, how he could just turn it on like that.  
  
Everyone talked to Peter. Told their secrets to him. Sirius was stunned into silence, which was frankly a feat by anyone’s measure.  
  
“But, you know, I’ll understand if that’s a risk you don’t want to take.” There was a challenge in his voice that sent lightning right through Black’s spine; the tone that egged them on to new heights of mischief, the tone he was hard wired, conditioned, to rise to.  
  
Their eyes met; and Sirius had never seen a light like that behind Peter’s. Not this close. Wondered if it was true, this seed Wormtail had planted in his head. Wondered if every night he’d spent, lying awake thinking about Peter tangled up with Regulus he’d been wishing it was him in his place; that the hot ache hadn’t been shame, shame for- wanting him. For not being as brave as Peter fucking Pettigrew, the coward, the hanger on. Openly gay, charming, angel-faced Peter who never got caught for anything. And worse. Worse that he’d chosen his brother- sour and tightly laced Regulus. Why not him? Certainly Peter had known he-  
  
His head was spinning, so Sirius just let out a long breath. “I’ve never met a risk I didn’t want to take.” What he might say with a casual fling, some girl; not one of his best friends. A boy with whom he shared everything.  
  
But Peter’s response was too fast; anticipated, immediate. Like he’d been planning the whole thing. “Then prove it.”  
  
And Sirius didn’t have time to think it through, to doubt; he’d slid his long fingers along the petal-soft, freckle-kissed span of Peter’s cheek til he could bury them in the blonde waves. One forward surge and he’d closed what little space there was between them. He pressed his mouth to Peter’s and kissed him hard- the heavier boy didn’t react right away, however, leaving Sirius with a knot in his stomach. He was all nerves, tasting the soft slick of Peter’s lips. He couldn’t fathom the horror if Peter pushed him away, rejected him now- so he just doubled his efforts, lifting the boy’s chin with a turn of his hand, daring him to stop him.  
  
To his relief, after a moment, those lips yielded to his. There was a touch of hesitation, and he could feel the way Peter tensed at first. Wondered what he was thinking, if Peter was trying to figure out if this was a cruel joke. But then he kissed back, slow and tempting, coaxing Sirius further as strong hands slid up the leaner boy’s sides and drawing him close. Sirius let out a whimper, involuntary, as Peter’s thumb grazed the bare slip of skin at the base of his spine, and he let himself get lost in the hot slide and drag of their mouths together. Black was the bad boy, the cad, the player- everyone knew he got around, had his fair share of girls. But, he realized, as those burning fingers slid up the back of his white shirt, he had absolutely no idea about Peter.  
  
And if the way he kissed was any indicator, it was more than he’d previously assumed.  
  
Wormtail let out a low groan; his voice had a delicious rough quality to it, resonant. Let his teeth catch at Sirius’ full bottom lip, just enough to be a threat, dragging his tongue along the entrance of his mouth; coaxing Sirius onward before slipping away. An exhale against the curve of his lips, letting the other chase him; but not giving in, not til Sirius let out a grunt of frustration and tugged his hair, pulling him closer.  
  
Peter chuckled into the kiss before breaking it. Their eyes met again, Peter’s bright and mischievous, his sharp mouth red from kissing. “That’s not very polite, Sirius. Surely you know how to ask nicely for what you want.” He teased, squaring his shoulders and leaning in, pressing a hot line of kisses along Sirius’ collar and the shell of his pierced ear. His skin felt hot where Peter’s mouth trailed across it, the scruff of stubble and the threat of teeth in equal measure and Sirius’ head fell back against the cold stone wall. He was oblivious to anything beyond this closet, the warm enveloping feeling of Peter’s body against his, and the ache of his cock which was quite frankly becoming a real issue.  
  
“Mm.” An exhale from the sandy-haired boy, peering up at Sirius from under those thick dark lashes. He looked so sweet, innocent, it was jarring to think of him like this; to see the desire flickering behind blue eyes. It was guarded, still- he wasn’t sure he was safe, that this wasn’t all a trick, and Sirius could tell he was on edge. “Go on then, Padfoot.” That calm, warm voice goaded him; lower, huskier than usual. “Tell me…” He continued, fingers sliding down the trim line of Sirius’ waist, giving a surprisingly confident twist as he palmed his need through his jeans. “...what you want.”  
  
The taller boy whimpered, tilting his head back as his hips jerked at the contact. He didn’t know what had gotten into him, this hard from just snogging in a closet. But there was no arguing with the effect, with how badly he wanted Peter to please Merlin not stop. He licked his bottom lip, grey eyes fluttering open as he took unsteady breathes, using all his self control not to buck into those thick, coaxing fingers. His cock throbbed under the steady pressure and he felt his brain go fuzzy.  
  
“I…” A thick swallow, hips jutted forward from the wall just a touch, fingers still in Peter’s hair. “... I want you to touch me.”  
  
“You want me to touch you… what…?” He waited, patiently, applying just enough pressure to torture him.  
  
“I want you to touch me, Pete, _please_.”  
  
The satisfied expression on the other boy’s face was worth the blow to his pride, and he felt a twinge of arousal at that look alone. Pettigrew was charming, in his way; an expressiveness that had drawn them all to him, a quiet cleverness that was in no way flashy, and that lack of judgement- it felt good to impress him, to please him. And he certainly seemed pleased and- when his fingers unhooked Sirius’ tattered muggle jeans and freed his cock, finding him wearing nothing else beneath- he certainly looked impressed.  
  
Peter licked his lips, a flush on his full cheeks bringing his freckles into stark contact, feeling the weight of Sirius’ cock in his hand. Then he leaned in again, kissing him slow and steady; like there was nothing he’d rather be doing in the world than kissing him like he was something precious. He exhaled against his mouth and began working his fingers over Sirius’ length. Thumb tracing his head, he smeared precum and smirked into the kiss at the way the lanky Marauder bucked into his hand.  
  
Sirius gasped, sallow cheeks drawn as he bit his bottom lip, worrying the skin with his teeth. The closet was heavy with the scent of their bodies, of arousal; earthy and damp and heady. Peter was intent on what he was doing, one of his thick thighs between Sirius’, supporting him and coaxing him into thrusting and rocking more. He realized too late just how vulgar the situation was, practically riding Peter’s thigh, cock rocking into the boy’s fist, against the swell of his stomach. But Peter was still clothed, even though he could feel his hard on against his hip.  
  
Peter with his brow fixed in delicious concentration, his freckles and boyish curls. The gap in his front teeth and ruddy, full lips, biting the bottom one as he worked on the task at hand. The plush spread of his shoulders, breadth of his chest - he’d barely been allowed to touch Peter and he was overwhelmed with the desire to, whimpering as he slowed his bucking.  
  
Sirius was already hot with sweat, white shirt clinging to the hard lines of his body, framed by the dim light of the room beyond. “Wait- wait, Pete. Lemme… lemme touch you, please. Fair is fair, right?” He was met with a furrowed brow and a look of contemplation. Peter looked almost nervous, hesitant, while his blue eyes flickered away from Sirius’ face, from the toned lines of him. While this encounter had been… predicted, it seemed this request gave Peter pause. He hadn’t expected Sirius to want to return the favor. After a moment though, he just shrugged and gave a sly smirk.  
  
“Sure. If you want.” The flurry of hands on him once he gave consent, though, threw him for a loop and made him laugh out loud, rich and genuinely surprised; Sirius rocked forward, reaching to the bottom of his jumper. He pulled it up over his head, dropping it to the side as their lips clashed; more desperation this time, two bodies rocking together. Too skillful to be distracted, his fingers unhooked each button of the white shirt beneath; unsheathing deafening in the silence of the room, their heavy breathing filling the space.  
  
Sirius spread the white fabric open, smirking at Peter and admiring the nervous way he chewed his bottom lip. Peter’s hands trailed over Sirius’ arms as the dark haired boy looked at him and a red blush spread over his cheeks. He started high, caressing the dip of his collar; the skin freckled and lucious and full; those long fingers pushed under Peter’s sleeve, feeling the firmness of muscle under fat, his skin impossibly soft and smooth. “Merlin, you’re pretty.” He exhaled, involuntarily; sliding his coarse hands over the sensuous line of his love handles, burying his fingers in luscious skin. Peter let out a laugh at this, half-nervous half-excited. Sheepish, he buried his face behind his hand, peering out at the Quidditch player from behind his fingers.  
  
“Planning on doing more than look at me?”  
  
“You have no idea.” He pulled Peter closer, relishing the softness of his body; the way Peter shivered when he touched him. Sirius summoned his confidence, sliding back into the ease of being looked at like that; by someone dark with desire. Because he wanted him; he could feel the swell of his cock through his slacks. “I wanna touch all of you.” Sirius purred, dark hair falling into his face as he found the crook of his friend’s neck. “Trace your freckles with my tongue…”  
  
“I’m not some girl you need to sweet talk, Sirius.” Teasing, looking incredulous with a smirk on his freckled face, shirt open to bare his pale, plush skin. Whether it was because he was embarrassed or because he wasn’t used to being talked to like that, like he was pretty, Sirius didn’t know.  
  
But Sirius was never one to run from a challenge, so he just smirked in return, tossing back his long black hair and undoing his own shirt as well; shrugging off the white fabric, all lean muscle, a few blackwork tattoos trailing down his side and bare stomach. “... Oh, I’m well-aware, Wormtail. Counting on it. Because I also want to choke on your cock; want you to fuck my face til I can’t breathe. Think you can manage that?”  
  
The vulgarity brought a delicious pink flush to Peter’s cheeks, spreading down his neck and chest; a hungry, rough look on his face that made Sirius whimper.  
  
“You’d be surprised. Kneel, then, if you want it so bad.”  
  
“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Sirius was so hard it hurt, but still he dropped to his knees; pressing into Peter’s thick thighs. He ran his lips against the bulge in Peter’s slacks through the fabric, just beneath the swell of his stomach. Deft fingers unhooked Peter’s pants, freeing his length; surprisingly thick, curved and mouth-watering. Smooth head, heavy weight, tip glistening. He’d sucked enough cock at Hogwarts that he leaned in to begin all shameless and eager; but felt fingers tangle in his hair, yanking his head back. It felt so good he groaned, mouth parted in a desperate curve.  
  
“Ah ah. There are rules, remember.” Oh. Rules. He hated those, and he was sure that Peter was playing with that deliberately. Wanted him to give in, wanted to be sure that this was real, that he wanted it badly enough to swallow his legendary pride. He glanced up at the other boy, holding his hair mercilessly, and desire drove him.  
  
“Please, let me suck your cock.”  
  
“That’s not quite how you worded it before-”  
  
“Please, fuck my face. I want to choke on your cock, use me how you like, make me cry.” His voice was gravelly, low.  
  
There it was again, that deeply satisfying expression; raw approval that made Sirius ache.

  
“Good boy. Open.” The commands sent fire to his core, stomach dropping and a whimper tumbling free. He’d expected to have some agency in this, but Peter tugged his hair and he opened his mouth obediently. It felt so vulgar, wanton, kneeling there in the closet while Peter gripped his thick length in one hand; smearing the head over Sirius’ full bottom lip. He tasted bitter, salty; like arousal and sweat and something distinctly Peter that drove him crazy.  
  
Sirius looked up at him with desperate grey eyes, mouth open wide; wide enough that all Peter needed to do was rock his hips forward, pressing his cock into the willing heat of him. It was delicious and slick. “Suck.” He commanded, and Sirius swirled his tongue around the cock in his mouth, feeling that heavy weight pressing into his tongue; hard and good and enticing. A slow drag of his mouth, lips wrapped pretty around the hard cock, feeling the head press against the back of his throat and made his thick lashes flutter against high cheekbones. “Need me to stop, hit the wall.”  
  
Better than all that, though, was the way Peter moaned above him; absolutely confident in his silencing spell, not caring that there was a Prefect rooting around not ten feet away from them. Heady and smug and _cocky,_ lips pulled into a smirk when Sirius looked up at him; like they were sharing a particularly good secret joke. A joke that other students were just too _dull_ to get. Sirius moaned involuntarily, smirking himself and starting to work his head along Peter’s throbbing length with pleasure.  
  
The fingers in his hair guided him, demanding; and Sirius allowed himself the luxury, the risk, of sliding his hands over sturdy hips, pushing down Peter’s slacks. Grabbing handfuls of his skin, bringing his hips closer, clinging to him. Feeling dimples in his lower back he was desperate to see, to trace his teeth over. Freckles continued down his pale skin, red lines along his hips.  
  
Fingers yanked at his hair, and he whimpered, the fist forcing his head back, baring his throat and looking up at Peter’s face. Wanting desperately to be good, he kept his mouth open and Peter shoved forward; filling his mouth, his throat, making his eyes water as he tried not to gag. The pace quickened, harder, faster- using his mouth, feeling spit slip down his bottom lip. It was messy, vulgar, and Peter was relentless; moaning deep, rolling his hips with a raw sensuality that caught Sirius off guard.  
  
All he could do was take it, head of his cock hitting the back of his throat again and again. Fucked open and used, letting out little moans and whimpers; gagging when he got too deep. A moment’s respite, then, just so Pete could watch the pretty Gryffindor catch his breath; cheeks flushed, debauched mouth red and used, grey eyes glazed with desperation, slick against his proud chin. The dangerous, imperious tilt of his heavy brows twisted into lust, wanton and willing, ready to take whatever Peter could give him. “Come on, Pete- you can do better than that.”  
  
His voice was rough, ruined, and it made the other boy growl, the challenge making a home in his bright eyes; taking a hold of his hair and forcing his cock down his throat. Neither gaze wavering, not even as Sirius started to choke, lashes fluttering; his hands digging finger-shaped bruises into Peter’s hips. His grey eyes watered and Peter could feel his throat convulsing around the intrusion, could feel his body shake and tremble for him; it felt good. Felt like power.  
  
With rough snaps of his hips, he fucked Sirius’ face, pinning him back against the wall; sending him scrambling to catch himself on his hands. Head tilted against the stone, nowhere to go, absolutely at his friend’s will. Fucked open like a whore, he felt his cock ache; the arousal too much, palming himself for some relief. He could come just like that, he thought, gagging and breathless and heady; struggling for air, the heavy weight against his tongue; his fist tight around his own need, arousal curled in his stomach like a bomb.  
  
Soft, strong fingers wrapped around his throat; and he felt his whole awareness float, too high, his pulse throbbing in his neck. He was sure Peter could feel his cock through the skin of his neck, could imagine the bulge of it as he thrashed a little, looking for air. But he didn’t tap out, just more and more desperate-  
  
“Look at you, Sirius. No wonder you have such a reputation. You like that, don’t you? I’m sure you’d like to be tied up in some tower, used by anyone who wanted to have you…” Delirious, the words set him on fire; the idea of Peter putting him there, keeping him like that, tears falling down his cheeks- “Fucked open, just waiting to be filled up; unable to resist, hm?” Sirius whimpered his assent around the cock in his throat. “Don’t worry, Padfoot- we’ve plenty of time for all of that.”  
  
The words were heavy with promise of pleasures yet to come, and he would have shot off right then and there had Peter not pulled away, pushing his hand away from his desperate jerking off with one foot.  
  
Peter was pink down his chest, breath heaving, hips rocking a touch; musculature under the round swell of his stomach working. His eyes had fluttered shut, blond curls against his temples. “Close. I want to cum in your mouth; get you all filthy, mm?” Sirius could only gasp his assent, sitting upright; setting his pleasure aside for the moment despite the burning need settled in his ribs, down his spine. He ran his tongue over the head, tasting bitter precum before swallowing him down; forcing himself to take him in again and again. That slick drag burn, the way the boy above him arched and rocked into his mouth; the moans and hissed curse words getting more and more frantic.  
  
He wanted it, wanted it bad; desperate to make him come. A fever pitch, wrapping his fingers tight around the base, cheeks hollowed around him. Their eyes met again, Peter watching him intently, and then Pete was gone; brows drawn up, cheek ruddy and mouth parted, biting his bottom lip as he twisted in pleasure, white hot and needy as stripes of hot cum filled Sirius’ waiting mouth.  
  
The black-haired boy lingered; swallowing down the bitter spend, his own breathing coming hard as he mouthed his softening member; sliding free and looking up at him. Peter looked sated, absolutely luscious and smug, running a hand through Sirius’ dark hair, admiring the strands against his pale skin. “Mmm. Very good, Padfoot. You’re made for that, aren’t you? I’m suddenly jealous of Bulstrode, which isn’t something I ever thought I’d say out loud-”  
  
Sirius couldn’t help but laugh, swatting at Peter’s hip. “I never fucked Bulstrode.”  
  
Peter looked mildly surprised, commending it to memory with a wry smile, brushing his thumb over Sirius’ debauched mouth, lathing a smear of cum from the corner and pressing it into his mouth; the bad boy of Gryffindor just smirked and sucked at the digit, making his companion groan a new. “Up, up.” Impatiently, warm and utterly fond; shyness about his body, the situation, forgotten. Together, with no small amount of graceless elbowing, they got Sirius to his feet. Peter turned him around, pressing his chest against the wall; it was a welcome balm, the cold stone compared to the burning heat curled inside him, the heady pressure of Peter’s body against his back.

  
“Your turn, hm?” Peter said easily, and Sirius practically melted into his touch; he stretched long and lean against the wall, arms pressed into it; the heavier boy reaching around him, fisting his cock; his other hand pushing down his ratty muggle jeans. He bucked into soft fingers; defter than he was used to, figuring him out and pulling him apart. So different than his own frantic ministrations, Peter took his time; like he savored the sensation. He could feel Peter lean over him, hot mouth finding his neck, biting into his skin and sending shivers down his whole body. He could feel Peter’s hips against his ass and he pressed back into him, seeking pleasure however he could get it.  
  
“Eager, aren’t you? Do you want something to fill you up, is that it?” A teasing tone, fingers pressing down the sharp line of Sirius’ hip, down his ass; tracing down, the lightest, teasing touch against his entrance; a press just enough to be a threat. Sirius’ whimpered; it wasn’t like he hadn’t done it before, taken it, but the thought of doing it here, now; taking it from Peter… That was something else entirely.  
  
But the sensation was heavy with promise; he was so desperately hard, wanted to get speared open, wanted to feel that relentless push he’d had down his throat- so he just nodded his assent, long black hair falling into his eyes as he stretched out for him. Peter pulled his hand away and drew his wand, tracing the tip of it down Sirius’ trembling back, following the blackwork phoenix feathers tattooed down his lower back. Down further, between and against-  
  
“What _are_ you doing, Wormt-” He barely had time to eke out the question, however, before Peter murmured an incantation he certainly had never heard before, and the tip of the wand pressed just inside him; he spread open easily, slick and hot, faint magical pulses coming from the tip. Absolutely vulgar, he had to bury his face in his arm. 

“That’s- what-” 

“Shhh, I’ve got you. Feels good, doesn’t it?”  
  
He wasn’t wrong; tingling as he ached and clenched around the wooden intrusion, feeling every inch of his passage slick and throb; a deep, inescapable press. Still, he could picture what it looked like; twelve inches of chestnut wood pressed into his entrance, stretching him; completely under Peter’s control. And worse, _more_ , it meant that Peter had the ability to do anything to him. Could eviscerate him from the inside out- could fill him and keep filling him til he couldn’t take any more- could, could-  
  
But he wouldn’t. Sirius trusted him, trusted him absolutely, so he yielded to the danger; spread his thighs further and groaned, feeling slick, hot lubricant filling his passage, dripping down his cock. Everything it touched hot, throbbing. “You’ll have to teach me that one, Wormtail, fuck-”  
  
“Mm. I know a sex spell that Sirius Black doesn’t? Well now I know you’re just stroking my ego.”  
  
“Ahn, nnnnnn fuck…. God damn… don’t let it go to your head, Pete.” Teasing, despite the way he bucked, arching his back and forcing himself deeper onto Peter’s wand; the intrusion feeling so much wider now, expanding inside him and making him see stars. All it took was a twist of Peter’s wrist and there was that pressure against a blinding spot within him. Sirius grunted, arms against the wall, tension aching in every inch of his body, painfully hard, precum dripping from the tip. Peter was absolutely living for it, drinking it in like a feast and wrapping his fingers around his length again; letting Sirius rut between the wand in his ass and the fist around his cock like a wild animal, blindly seeking release.  
  
And it was coming, coursing hot through his veins, pleasure arching through his abused core- 

Then the pressure suddenly disappeared.

  
  
Sirius let out a keening whine, fucking into nothing; before whipping around, looking at Peter acusatorily; absolutely panting and hips stuttering, grey eyes ferocious.  
  
Pettigrew was calmly tucking himself into his slacks behind him. Sirius felt blindsided, utterly stupid, confused- what the hell was he-  
  
“Abbot has moved on. No need to stay in the closet, I figure.”  
  
“What- Wormtail, what the fuck, finish me off.” His cock was so hard it hurt, brought nearly to the edge and then left dangling. He felt embarrassment scalding his skin, flushed down his neck and shoulders. Was Peter turning him down, _him_? Had he done something wrong, or was the bastard just-  
  
“Oh, gladly. I’ve seen your tight arse and I would savor the opportunity to make you scream my name. But, you know, probably on a bed.” A bed hadn’t mattered to him minutes ago, why the hell now.  
  
“You absolute bastard, what ARE you on about-” But Peter was already buttoning up his shirt, dispelling the silencing charm; vanishing the telltale glint of slick on his wand tip. Took only one moment to drink in the sight of Sirius glowering at him all debauched, committing it to memory, before continuing.  
  
“See you in Gryffindor tower, Padfoot. Meet you there, wouldn’t want to arouse suspicions unduly.”  
  
And with that, he’d disappeared out the mirrored doorway.  
  
Sirius Black was left standing there, absolutely disheveled. His entrance slicked and stretched and tightening around nothing feeling horrifically empty, his cock so hard it hurt; his pulse racing in his chest. Peter had said he’d finish the job, all he had to do was follow. But that meant the sick bastard wanted him to travel halfway across the castle, absolutely rock hard, and up nearly 7 flights of stairs, through the common room-  
  
Well, fuck him. He’d just get himself off. He gripped his cock, whimpering at the overstimulation; letting himself collapse to the floor as he frantically stroked himself in the dark cupboard. Absolute bastard, with his smug smile and his charms and he’d felt so _good_ teasing him, inside of him. Dry, ragged strokes of his fist; the cupboard cold now Peter had moved on. He wanted to wreck Pettigrew, wanted to bite into that rounded shoulder- while Peter slammed into him and-  
  
Fuck.  
  
Alone in the dusty closet, he groaned and slammed his head back against the wall, long legs sprawled absolutely undignified. He was red all over, embarrassed and aching and furious. 

But he wanted it- couldn’t believe how much he’d wanted it. Had, probably, for months, years. And all it took was rising to the challenge; was being the brazen, wanton slut they all knew and loved. Which was, he imagined, what Pettigrew was banking on- he had a reputation to uphold. And what, if he slunk off, took a cold shower- well. Then Peter would have _won_ and there would be endless chiding at his expense.  
  


Or something.  
  


He wasn’t thinking rationally as he tugged on his jeans, wincing and groaning as he tucked his cock into the constricting fabric. He didn’t even bother buttoning his shirt.  
  
The walk through the dark Hogwarts halls was excruciating; physically, sure, but more because not every student had gone to bed. He had to summon the gumption to _wink_ at poor Ellory Primwhistle who was staring, not unreasonably, at a positively debauched and staggering Sirius Black storming up to Gryffindor tower, shirt open and tie hanging off his shoulders, like he was on a mission to fuck and/or kill every single person he found when he got there.  
  
He felt a little crazy, a little high, exhilarated- he was going to MURDER Pettigrew. He was going to choke the little rat bastard within an inch of his life and THEN, only then, was he going to fuck him until he couldn’t remember his name, couldn’t see straight, couldn’t walk for a week- sink his fingers and teeth into all that lush skin, bruise each inch of freckled skin-  
  
He got to the dorm; Peter’s bed was empty and the rest of them were asleep.  
  
The curtains around his OWN four poster bed, however, were conspicuously drawn. Feeling half out of his mind, he tugged open the curtain; feeling the telltale muffling of a silencing charm as he did so.  
  


There was Pettigrew, all angelic innocence, laid out in his bed with his round chin in his hand, smiling up at Sirius with that gap-toothed smile. “Sirius!” He said, like they were best friends in the world and he hadn’t just left him half-fucked out of his head and hard and panting in a broom closet. “How nice of you to join me.” There it was, the smug goading, as scheduled.  
  
He seemed to absolutely delight in the crazed look on Sirius’ face, the violent temper he’d awoken; and it didn’t fade even when Sirius yanked the curtain closed. Like a predator, absolute danger in every inch of his tightly wound body, he tackled Peter down on the bed- down against the red sheets. “You absolute bastard, you _piece of shit_ , you just LEFT me there-”  
  
“Oh please, Sirius-” Sarcasm heavy in his voice, even as Sirius straddled his body like a panther; shook him by the shoulders. “-it’s nothing you don’t enjoy, is it?”  
  
Sirius scowled, absolutely tempestuous, grabbing the front of Peter’s shirt and yanking; sending buttons flying as he ripped it open. Peter just looked smug, leaning back against his pillows like he’d always been there, an absolute prince. He’d never seen Peter look so confident, so in his element; an absolutely different facet than their usual nervous, tag along companion. Warm light from the fireplace drifted in, but Sirius didn’t have the wherewithal to admire the way the gold danced over Peter’s soft skin; he was too busy shucking off his jeans.  
  
“There’s something about the taboo of the thing. About being denied that you crave. That heightens it for you, even now-” Peter had gotten himself hard again while Sirius had wrestled with his moral dilemma, and he could feel the cock against his ass; this time he was going to have him, one way or the other. He wanted to wipe that smug look off of Peter’s face, but he was too desperate to get him inside; to get off, to have him completely-  
  
“You absolute bastard-” Sirius shot back, straddling him again and savoring the stretch around broad hips; naked except for his open button down shirt, yanking down Peter’s slacks. He tugged free the other’s cock roughly, giving him only a few perfunctory strokes- fire burning behind his grey eyes as he lined him up. “You complete fucking _rat_ I’m going to ruin your life-”  
  
The words were lost, though, to the keening moan when he finally impaled himself on Peter’s cock. He bottomed out immediately, groaning at the hard flesh filling him; curving into him perfectly. It came with a burning ache, pain and pleasure making Sirius whimper, his eyes watering for the second time that day; biting his bottom lip. But he didn’t pause, didn’t let himself adjust, just rocking back and forcing himself deeper, holding one of Peter’s dimpled thighs.  
  
The other boy moaned headily, looking up his body at Sirius; seeing where they joined. It was with vulgar fascination, pleasure so good it made his blood boil, watching Sirius Black drag himself up; watching his cock pull from that tight ass, the rim of muscle clinging to him, before Sirius slammed himself back down over every brutal inch. There was nothing kind nor gentle about it; each line of muscle in Sirius’ body taut and glistening with sweat as he started to ride him in earnest; reckless abandon as Sirius chased pleasure, taking what he wanted and had been denied.  
  
Peter, however, wasn’t content just to give- with a motion he rocked up into Black, catching him off guard; changing the angle. There was a tangle of limbs as he pushed the taller boy off of him, both like and not like the wrestling of years past, onto his stomach. Peter’s grip was confident, demanding; putting Sirius where he wanted him. And Sirius, lost to arousal and desperation, simply went.  
  
Wormtail shoved his hands onto the headboard, _his_ own headboard, and hoisted one knee; stretched out like that, the heavier boy grabbed his hips. He teased his entrance for just a moment, like he couldn’t _help_ himself, watching the stretch of Sirius’ tight passage around the head of his slick cock; but the time for teasing, for gentleness, was long past; and he forced his way into Sirius. Their hips snapped together, a rough thud of flesh against flesh as Peter speared him. A few attempts before Sirius cried out; flushed at the idea that if the charm wasn’t _perfect_ everyone in their dorm would hear them, would hear Peter grunting and moaning above him, would hear him getting buggered by Peter fucking Pettigrew.  
  
“Had to be your bed, Sirius- I want you to think of this every time you’re in here. Getting fucked by me, mm? Stretching you open, making you cry, making you cum-” Peter worked smart, not hard, using Sirius’ own desperation to his advantage. Sirius was the quidditch player, after all, the more athletic of the two of them; so he stretched the boy’s legs wide, his own thick thighs pressing against them, the heavy weight of his body pressed into Sirius’ back and making him curl as he bit into his shoulder.  
  
“Fuck, Peter- Peter!” The air was heavy with the scent and sound of them, all sweat and arousal as Peter thrust home again and again; each drag against that perfect spot inside of him making his vision swim. Pressure that he couldn’t escape, pleasure building from the very tips of his toes, coiling behind his eyes; making his eyes water, making him moan out with every single thrust til he was on the verge of sobbing- again, and again, and again, relentless and unyielding and-  
  
Then his vision went white, whole body throbbing and convulsing as he saw stars; shooting pulse after pulse of cum onto his sheets. Greyed out, momentarily, pleasure making him dizzy; Peter’s slow pressure working him through it, coaxing every last line out of him; a thick hand pressing along his cock, as if to get the very last drop.  
  
Peter, still hard inside him; he’d collapsed to the pillows in front of him, but he summoned the energy to rock back; to clench around the intrusion, making himself whimper. “Come on, then. Come inside me. Said you’d fill me up, didn’t you?” There were only a few more thrusts, Peter holding his hips; drinking in his blissed out expression, the vulgarity of his words, the absolute high of coming inside Sirius Black-  
  
Then Peter was coming, gripping his hips and a blush spilling down his rounded shoulders, the plush lines of his collar; freckles in stark relief. He came open-mouthed and silent, so hard he lost his very voice; his cock spilling inside of Sirius, coating his passage with hot spend and it made the other boy whimper anew, so absolutely soiled; used.  
  


They collapsed together, a pile of limbs and sweat and cum. Peter was breathing heavy, lifting one arm over his head as if he couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe what he’d just gotten away with, accomplished.  
  
Sirius laid on his stomach, feeling cum on his skin; leaking out of his entrance, filthy with sweat and need and lube. His black hair a tousled mess, proud sharp cheek against his tattooed forearm. He peered over at Peter; watched him catch his breath, watched him settle down to earth. He felt… good. Incredibly good. Well-used, satiated. Grateful.  
  
“... that was incredible.” Sirius finally managed, hip resting against Peter’s; unsure if that was allowed between them.  
  
“Mmm. It was. The rumors about you hold true, Black.” Then a pause, a moment of twisting hesitation. “You’re not too cross, are you, about the-”  
  
He shook his head, a cheeky, crooked smile on his sly mouth. “No. I mean- if you ever do that again, I’ll probably throw you to the giant squid, but-”  
  
“Could be rather fun, that.”  
  
“Getting thrown to the-”  
  
“Tentacles.”  
  
“For fuck’s sake, Pettigrew.”  
  
The boy just grinned in reply, finally dropping his arm so Sirius could see his face. He was well fucked, looked tired, but those eyes were still impossibly bright; clever and planning, even when they couldn’t see it. He reached for his wand, muttering a simple scouring spell; leaving a tingle and a sort of cinnamon scent in its wake. Not a shower, but it would do, for now.  
  
“I didn’t do it, by the way.”

“Mm?” Sirius’ response was lazy, glazed.

“Sleep with Reg. We snogged and bit and everyone assumed- … anyway, I just wanted you to know.”  
  
Sirius just laughed, wondering vaguely if the boy had done it just to get him jealous. Couldn’t have possibly planned all this, could he have? Still, the knowledge settled warm in his stomach, a balm for the wild anger he’d been feeling since the game. 

“Til the need strikes again, mm, Padfoot? Friends?” Peter teased, but he was already sitting up. A little too quick, the heavier boy reached for his boxers, tugging them back on. The buttons of his white shirt were popped off, but he went for that as well where it had been tossed into a pile. He wasn’t really looking at Sirius.  
  
“... Pft.” Sirius replied, but then realized with a panic that Peter was getting up to leave and-  
  
Black just slid closer, not sure how the other boy would react, sliding his arm over Peter’s chest. Suspicious, the smaller boy let the shirt fall from his hand, let himself be coaxed back against the pillows; his eyes narrowed at Sirius, a hint of panic stirring in his ribs. This absolutely had NOT been part of the plan. “Sirius, I can’t sleep here- not that you’re asking me to- someone will see, they’ll know, they’ll poke fun tomorrow-” The spell of whatever they’d just done was broken, the nerves and overthinking returning. After all, Sirius couldn’t possibly want anyone to know that they’d-

“They can bloody well try.” Absolutely unphased, brazen, then Sirius’ head was on his shoulder, a hot weight pressed into the softness of his chest. Seemingly unbothered entirely by what he found there. Padfoot kicked his legs under the blankets, tugging them up over the two boys, not really asking so much as demanding, not giving Peter room to argue. Black held him tight, cuddled against the warmth of his body, the soft girth he couldn’t quite reach all the way around, feeling safe. Well-used. Well-fucked.  
  
Home.

Sirius drifted off to sleep, keeping Peter in his bed; somewhere Peter had never imagined he would ever be allowed, let alone welcomed. And his heart ached. Sirius didn’t feel Peter brush black hair out of his face, caress his cheek. Or turn into the embrace, into Sirius’ warm sleeping form, eyes shut tight. A warmth in his chest he couldn’t contain, or name, because he’d never felt something exactly like it before. 

Their breathing slowly matched, and Peter too drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

  
  
Disturbed only the next morning by a half dozen absolutely RIOTOUS Gryffindor boys.


End file.
